


women will do

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [29]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, Illustrated, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nepeta comes to a decision about her future and learns a bit about the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pinch

**Author's Note:**

> “Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.”   
> ― Robert A. Heinlein

**== >Nepeta:  Notice the change**

 

You’re getting heavier around the middle. Actually that’s not the right word. Maybe bulky? You pinch the extra flab on your waist. Bloated. Bulging. Ballooning. Scratch that. Ballooning will only be applicable in three months when you’re ready to burst. You sigh, rub your palm against your forehead and inhale. Exhale. You’ve been scatterbrained lately, neglectingyour shipping wall because it’s a reminder of those happy (or hateful) couples with their offspring.

And your offspring. Your possible clown grub.

You haven’t told your father. You’d rather tell him the situation and have him break it your mother. Your mother’ll yell about how fucking stupid you are than then be overjoyed about the grandkit; about baptism dresses and wriggling day parties. Gods help this child if they’re female. They won’t be able to escape from the ribbons and frills.

You shudder. Those _horrible_ ribbons.

You lay on the daybed, having spent your energy for the moment. Soon you won’t even want to crawl out of your daybed. You’ll just lay there and throw things at Gamzee until he brings you food. You look at your iHusk and think of your moiral. You’ve been worried about the big lug since he’s going to be a Dad too. At least you have some common ground there.

 

\--arsenicCatnip[AC] began trolling centaursTesticle[CT]!—

 

AC: *ac sluggishly enters the room and lays down mewling until her meowrail notices her*

CT: D--> Oh hello, nepeta it’s been a while

AC: ://< yeah it has

AC: :((< things have b33n hectic on both ends haven’t they?

CT: D--> Yes a lot of moving going on my part mostly

AC: :((< you’re not moving are you equihiss

CT: D--> No perish the thought nepeta

CT: D--> Vriska has moved out of aranea’s mobilehive so father is moving in with aranea; aradia is moving in with me

CT: D-->And I have no idea what damara is doing but she makes me uncomfortable

AC: :33< oh yeah aranea is your new stepmom.

CT: D--> No she isn’t

CT: D--> She’s my father’s matesprit that’s all.

AC: :33< isn’t she already your aunt?

CT: D--> Details

AC: :33< you don’t sound very receptive to the idea of aranea being your new mom

CT: D--> She’s not my mother rufioh is end of story

AC: :33< I never knew you were so testy about this sort of thing

CT: D--> I’m not testy

AC: :33< are too

CT: D-->  No

AC: :33< yes.

AT: :33< so it doesn’t bother you aranea is taking the place of your mom?

CT: D--> No because the concept of stepmotherhood is a human thing that i do not care about that

CT: D--> Why are we even talking about this

AC: X33< because when something bothers you, you never like to admit it and dance around the subject for as long as pawsibble. like father like son.

CT: D--> I don’t invite that comparison

CT: D--> Being compared to your hemokind parent seems to cause more disaster than blessing

CT: D--> I don’t want to be my father or my grandfather i want to be myself

AC: ://< you used to be all about redeeming your ancestors

AC: :33< if past equius and present equius were talking, past equius would be sweating in horror.

CT: D--> I think so too but i now realize it’s impossible to obey the hemocaste now

CT: D--> How can I when most highbloods are criminals and i wish to uphold the law?

CT: D--> Something inside me says this is wrong but in order to give my children a future i have to change

AC: :33< you are more accepting of change than your purredecessors though so purrogress is being made equius! good for you!

CT: D--> I think that the refusal to accept change may be a highblood thing or a blueblood thing.

CT: D--> We resist it a lot before we finally just go along with it change was impossible for my grandfather my father still has his struggles

CT: D--> And i

CT: D--> I think I can handle this?

CT: D--> Maybe it’s because i’m young or because I have motivation to take care of my family but i’m trying

CT: D--> Now if I could only handle this politically correct vernacular they’re making all recruits learn

AC: :33< what is it? Maybe i could help?

CT: D--> It’s basically a long list of words you are not supposed say

CT: D--> And i am just learning that you are not supposed to call lowbloods lowbloods anymore because its offensive

CT: D--> There’s a long list of “offensive” words you’re not supposed to use, like lowblood, highblood, hemocaste, fudgeblood, clownfish, blowfish, milkhead, kimmy, chimera, scout, jegus-killer, bug, cockroach, pawn, prawn, bug hillbilly, grey honky, betty crocker, niners, gillboy, finny, landdweller, seadweller, and most of the rest are rather… vulgar

CT: D--> I need a towel just from looking at the list… it’s so… long…

AC: ://< how is “seadweller” offensive?

CT: D--> Because not all seatrolls live in the sea also, seatroll isn’t offensive but it’s not polite

AC: :??< what are you supposed to call them?

CT: D--> “Amphibious-troll” with tags added for freshwater and salt water

AC: ://< that seems unnecessary. wait. whats a “blowfish”?

CT: D--> Its self explanatory if you know what a clownfish is

AC: :??< then what’s a “milkhead”? i’ve never heard that before…

CT: D--> Please stop asking me these things i have a finite amount of towels.

AC: ://< nevermind just looked up milkhead on urbandictionary. so does this make karkat a milkhead or

CT: D--> How are your quadrants have you found a flush yet

AC: ://< ugh no i’ve sort of got my own situation going on.

CT: D--> Which is?

AC: ://< well, if I tell you will you please not freak out?

CT: D--> are you pregnant?

AC: :[[< …how did you know?

CT: D--> Wait really?

AC: >:[[< yes really equius!

CT: D--> I-I was making a joke!

AC: >://< that’s not the right joke to make, equius!

CT: Oh… fiddlesti%s

AC: >://< *ac’s moirail cluelessly hit right on the money!*

CT: D--> Whose is it?

AC: >://< take another wild guess.

CT: D--> I’ve heard of your 100d behavior via my matesprit so I would wager gamzee or tavros

AC: >://< its gamz33’s! i haven’t done anything “lewd” with tavros. well not as much as with gamzee but since you don’t want to run out of towels i won’t go into detail! But it’s not stupid fairy boy’s!

CT: D--> So what are you going to do?

AC: :((< well I sort of… want to keep it? but i know i’ll need a job.

CT: D--> Well health care is an issue if you want to keep it more than just regular minimum wage

CT: D--> There’s really no point in having a grub if you don’t have the medical coverage for it

CT: D--> I’m part of a union at trollego so i get some health coverage for my matesprit and one child if I get on the force i’ll get a lot more than that.

AC: ://< equius, why don’t you just sell your robots? you can just point to tavros and show off how good your work is. you’d make more money and you wouldn’t have to risk your life.

CT: D--> The robotics business has a lot of competition and i could actually get in a lot of trouble giving away cybernetic prosthetics

AC: ://< you mean legal trouble?

CT: CT: D--> Not necessarily but companies like microhusk and dynamichem are not friendly towards competition

CT: D--> They have a STRONG grip on the cybernetics market that they refuse to let go

CT: D--> Most people who need prosthetics are lower class people who work in factories and front-line soldiers if they can get their prosthetics somewhere else, they won’t turn a profit

CT: D--> I’d rather help people walk and feel independent again than become a cog in their machine even if i made breakthroughs in machinery for them, i wouldn’t get credit i would only get minimum wage and a pat on the back if i’m lucky

CT: D--> At least as an officer i can help people

AC: >://< i don’t even know what I can do. I don’t have a lot of skills outside from running around and I’d go nuts just sitting at a tiny desk all day!

CT: D--> What about something in the fuel industry? there’s always demand for people to work at the biomass plants

AC: >://< that’s all the way out east. i want to be able to s33 my kid and family too.

CT: D--> There’s sewage treatment plants and delivery people are always needed

CT: D--> You have plenty of skills you just need to apply them and you’re an oliveblood work should be easy for you to find

CT: D--> But what about gamzee?

AC: >://< don’t get me started on the dirty night clown. i haven’t even told him yet.

CT: D--> why not?

AC: >://< have you ever talked to gamzee?

 

It’s not like you haven’t tried to bring up the topic of offspring before but Gamzee’s attention span with you fluctuates between half-listening and barely listening. You doubt his brain is that fried and he’s doing it to piss you off, which is working fine. He seems to think of grubs on the level you’d associate STPs with.

 

CT: D--> I’m guessing it doesn’t go well

AC: >://< the idea of having kids weirds him out! he’s an idiot anyways but i still want him to be a part of this.

CT: D--> Well no matter what the bottom line is you both need to provide for the child

AC: ://< i know… just not looking forward that conversation i’ll try though.

AC: :33< thanks equius. <>

CT: I’m always here to help, nepeta. <>

 

\--arsenicCatnip[AC] ceased trolling centaursTesticle[CT]!—

 

Of course you forgot to mention you’d yet to tell Gamzee you’re quitting your side operations at the motels before you have to tell him you’re pregnant. The purpleblood takes the news about as well as you thought he would, in that he bitches about it and goes to wreck something in the living room. Why Tavros puts up with him you’re never going to understand. Then you remember that Gamzee has a bulge nice enough to raises anyone’s tolerance level of his behavior. 

You try to go about your day but (unfortunately) Gamzee isn’t too pissed to stop following you around.

“Quit following me.”

“I ain’t following you for your health, furbitch.”

“Go bother, Tavros.”

“He’s busy.”

“Then go someplace else!”

“No!”

And so on. You get a skeevy seven foot stalking you like the ugliest shadow ever for the entire day. You’re not sure how dumb Gamzee is playing at for not realizing you’re knocked up. He snarls at the 7-11 clerk who always flirts with you. You feel like you’re stuck in a dramatic reenactment on the History of Alternian Sex where the dominant mate follows the submissive mate around to make sure no one else mates with them.

Running chores is a pain not for this reason but the ever-growing little pain the ass in your eggsack. One twist in there and you have to stop because your stomach thinks it’s funny to try and leap out of your mouth. Gamzee, for once, is not an asshole but actually wondering what the shit is going on. You tell him to fuck off because you’re not flushed. This, of course, starts a chain reaction. Arguing. Growling. Heated pitch kisses. You shove him away before he can push you against a wall and fuck you. You go home in a sour mood from near-coitus-interruptus, hating yourself-induced sex dry spell. You keep arguing. You take out your agitation on the gas oven that won’t light and nearly get burned. Gamzee (still in his protective mode) yanks you from the oven before you end up with second degree burns. His hand is cold on your stomach. The grub growing inside you chooses this as the worst time to do their acrobatics.

“How long…?” His tone is earnest surprise, not even a hint of sarcasm. You spent days working up the courage to talk about this and now the moment’s here and you don’t know what to do. You’re shaking, moving from him and turning off the stove.

He growls. _“How long?”_

“A while now!” you snap.

He’s silent. You don’t look at him. The silence between you is filled with your racing thoughts. When did you conceive? How long has it been? Didn’t you drink at Vriska’s party? Is it going to come out deformed then, with crushed backlegsor be white like a maggot? But this is Gamzee you’re talking about. His concerns will be about him; the selfish fuck.

“Shit. Does Kurloz know?”

“I was… trying to figure out how to tell him.” because with the chaos of Thetas’s death and your father ‘working’, you haven’t found the right moment. There’s an edge to your father these days that makes you too uneasy to be around him for too long.

“Don’t sit on your ass. Tell him.”

Asshole; he’s more concerned your father will kick his ass into next week. “That’s why I’m afraid.” You try not to smirk, “He’s _so_ going to kick your ass.”

“I’ll clear out when you tell him.”

And he runs out of the trailer. Well. This is just wonderful. It seems like you’re going to have to face your father alone. At least you got your wish: he’s leaving you alone; most likelywith his obnoxiously sassy matesprit. You then remember Gamzee and Tavros’s sex preferences and wonder long it’ll be until Tavros’s birth control fails. You hope it’s not soon because you barely tolerate Tavros and all his sass but not tolerating him would be disrespecting your quadrants. You might be an atheist but you were raised to believe in strict quadrants. Tavros you’re not so sure of. You know Rufioh’s mother took her family to church but in those impoverish days churches fed you and had donated goods but with his illegal weed growing, you doubt Rufioh’s absorbed Orthodoxian teachings.

You doubt the religion of a lot of people though as you’ve been around enough church folks to realize who’s a fraud and who honestly believes. You doubt Miss Egbert is as religious as she says she is. Nobody that religious would be associated with Miss Lalonde. You long suspected Miss Lalonde was a webcam girl and it wasn’t in the way she dressed with flash and leopard skin; there’s a lot of that in the trailer park. The hint was in how her eyes would light up around certain trolls; the look of a human who was “trolling for glute”.

You recently found out she wasn’t just a webcam girl but an active mistress, though you found this out not through observance but accident.

“It’s not _hypocritical_ , Loz…”

Phaxin was over your trailer again, your father and him sitting on the back porch. He’d been visiting more often after Thetas’s funeral to your never-ending delight. You could wear something skimpy and try to see what techniques could pique his interest until your father came along to interrupt your attempts. Usually you lurked until your father left, so while they were on the back porch you watched from inside.

Your father signed. <<HOW IS IT NOT HYPOCRITICAL? YOU CAN’T SAY APES ARE THE SCUM OF THE PLANET AND THEN REPEATEDLY STICK YOUR BULGE IN ONE.>>

Phaxin smirked. “For one thing, I’m fucking her. She’s sticking out her ass for pay _and_ she can’t get pregnant. Fucking a human is pretty much like fucking a mutantblood; they’re just as hot on the inside.”

<<SO SHE’S THE PERFECT SUBSTITUTE WHILE YOU AND HARQUN SKATE AROUND YOUR ACTUAL QUADRANT?>>

“Shut up about that.” Phaxin growled.

<<ITS NO SECRET YOU’RE FUCKING LALONDE, ALONG WITH MORE THAN HALF OF THE GANG.>>

“So you’ve mentioned that. Constantly.”

<<I JUST FIND IT IDIOTIC. HISS AND SPIT ABOUT THE APES IN PRIVATE, BUT NOT THIS ONE APE WITH HER BLONDE HAIR, MUTATED EYES, AND HER PERKY HEFTSACKS.>>

Phaxin chuckled. “So you’ve been with her too?”

<<NO. I FAIL TO SEE THE APPEAL OF HUMANS. THEY’RE LIKE HALF-TROLLS TO ME; AS IF THEIR PUPATION WENT WRONG. AND I KNOW BECAUSE YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE INSIST ON DESCRIBING YOUR NIGHT WITH SOME HUMAN WHO KNEW WHAT SHE WAS DOING AND I PIECED THE IDENTITY TOGETHER.>>

Phaxin snorted, sipped his Faygo, “You’re like the Sherlock Holmes of fucking.”

<<WHEN YOU HAVE A SISTER AND FATHER LIKE MINE, YOU PIECE TOGETHER WHO SLEPT WITH WHOM. PINK EYES. BLONDE HAIR. HUMANS THAT MUTATED ONLY LIVE IN THE TRAILER PARK.>> Your father rolls his eyes, <<EVEN SOMEONE AS BLINDSIDED BY AROUSAL AS MY FATHER WOULD REALIZE THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR IS FANTASY. ITS PATHETIC; ALMOST AS PATHETIC AS THAT ‘WING’ CAPONE HAS.>>

“Hey, don’t go bashing the Mirthful Wing.” Phaxin smirked. “It keeps morale up.”

“A WASTE OF MONEY THAT GO TOWARD HELPING US WITH THIS WAR WITH THE UBK; WHOEVER COOKS CAPONE’S BOOKS MUST BE TEARING THEIR HAIR OUT AT HOW BADLY THINGS MUST BE BALANCED.>>

“What are you talking about…?” Phaxin muttered.

Your father sighed and went into a long diatribe about finances and the gang war but you had left by then. You didn’t care about the rest; feeling heartbroken knowing Phaxin not only was seeing a human prostitute but also might have a potential flushmate. It felt like a slap to the face. Human! Why human? You shouldn’t be surprised but it still stung. Phaxin’s an adult troll with adult needs… while you’re a little girl compared to him.

You try not to think about it and go about making your hamburgers, because you’ve been craving that. You sit on the couch and watch Troll Maury. You try not to think about who else Miss Lalonde may have slept with, how scandalized the troll must feel fucking a human. Even Karkat is letting a human fuck him. Would you do the same? Your mother would disapprove of it because it doesn’t allow for breeding. (There’d be rioting if you could) You’re not sure if your father would care.

You have to admit there is an exotic appeal to humans with their unique skin and eyes. Miss Lalonde’s curved eyes are her best feature, coinciding with the rosy irises, narrow nose, slender jaw, prominent chin and shiny hair. She has to be Shongolian with those looks, but the blonde hair makes you think drops of the East may have snuck in; maybe Trussian or Young British.

What is she like with the purplebloods? Are they rough with her? But a purpleblood can’t be all stone; even your father and grandfather had a soft spot when it came to sex. Your mind races while you finish your hamburger. Does she ever top them with a strap-on? Does she whip them? Does she dress like anglamorous pail slave in a bikini? This is what you do with your time now. Eat barely cooked meats consider the love and sex lives of your neighbors and relatives. Gods, you need to get laid. 

As if on cue to kill your sex drive, your parents arrive home; your mother is carrying a bag of groceries. You help bring in the remaining bags from the car. While your mother is in the kitchen preparing a hamburger, you decide to bite the bullet with your father. At least your mother can’t hear you or read your lips from the kitchen.

“Uh, Dad,” you say, “I to tell you something… I… uh…”

Your father holds up his hand for you to stop. He signs, <<PREGNANT?>>

You glare at him. “…does _everyone_ know I’m _knocked up_?”

<<YOU’RE IRRESPONSIBLE.>> You glare at him and he glares back, <<I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO ARANEA’S COUCH.>>

You blush, “That was _Tavros’s_ idea!”

He scoffs. <<I DOUBT IT WAS JUST HIM.>>

“Dad!”

<<DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FATHER IS?>>

“It’s Gamzee’s; stop acting like I sling my nook around for fun.”

<<YOUR GENERATION DOES THAT.>>

“Like _yours_ has room to talk. What _did_ happen after Grandma Maryam’s funeral between you and Aunt Porrim—”

Kurloz’s glare intensifies. <<NOT THE POINT OF THIS CONVERSATION. YOU HAVE TO TELL YOUR MOTHER.>>

You groan. “Can’t you tell her for me?”

<<NO.>>

“ _Why_?” This question is closer to a whine.

<<BECAUSE ITS HER GRANDCHILD TOO.>> He pauses, <<YOU’RE KEEPING IT?>>

“If I wasn’t keeping it, I wouldn’t have _told_ you.”

<<WHAT IF IT’S A HIGHBLOOD?>>

“You expect me to abort on the off chance things will be hard? Even if it’s not a purple, things will _still_ be hard.” You shrug. “Life is hard, Dad. You taught me that.”

Your father sighs and pats you on the head. <<YOU KIDS GROW UP TOO FAST.>>

You look up at him, smiling. “There’s no rule against adults having fun.”

<<FUN FOR AN ADULT IS DIFFERENT.>>

“Are you going to break Gamzee’s arm when he comes back?”

His eyes narrow. <<MAYBE.>>

“No Dad. If I’m keeping the kid I’d like for their father to have both limbs in their joints.”

<<WHAT IF I JUST BRUISE HIM A LITTLE?>>

_“Dad.”_

Kurloz sighs, <<I’LL HAVE A TALK WHILE YOU AND YOUR MOTHER TALK.>> He sees you frown, <<AND THAT’S FINAL.>>

There’s no arguing with the glare he’s giving you.

 

* * *

 

You don’t get a lecture though, at least not right away. Your mother doesn’t yell at the nights. She says in a small voice “This isn’t the place for this” and decides you’re going out for a walk. The walk down Fordham Road is silent and awkward. Early evening and everyone is up and about. Niners are evening people; grilling, arguing, or going out to the store. Your mother has been dressed better lately even though she’s a step away from being laid off. Her hair’s curled and her nails painted. You look like her dorky kid sister in your jeans and sweaty T-shirt.

Blank Park isn’t its actual name but like many things in the Ninth Ward, it’s the name it earned as the original sign blew away in a storm. It’s not a bad park, if somewhat shabby. There are swing sets, a jungle gym, a large space area for barbeques, and a garden maintained by those with court-ordered community service. You sit on a bench near the garden, looking at the fireflies and swatting mosquitos when you can.

“So are you going to yell at me or what?” you ask.

“I am pretty sure you’ve done enough yelling at yourself for this.” your mother says. You scowl. You hate it when she’s right. She sighs. “You’re not the first person to get pregnant by accident and I doubt you’d be the last here in the Nines.”

“Why’d you panic? Your matesprit wasn’t an ex-con.” Or at least he wasn’t _yet_ by that point.

“Our parents were feuding was why, namely my mother versus your father’s. She didn’t trust me, for several reasons.” Another sigh, “You know the story of the Dolorosa, the Signless, and the Disciple, yes?”

“In the Tome? Yeah.” you mutter. 

The antics of your grandparents have never concerned you. It was like a poorly written soap opera; a never ending loop of who loves who, who betrayed who, and who was really so-and-so’s father or mother all along. It sounded confusing, and you’d probably need a flowchart of relationships to follow it.

“The Tome is one story,” your mother sighs, “Reality is another.”

Oh gods. She’s going to tell you the story, or a snippet of the story. Even a snippet would be complicated and brutal. Why? Why this? You’d prefer getting yelled at rather than hear this story again. Your mother is a romantic, even more gushing with emotion than you are. She loves to exposit on how her mother was sold into slavery after the Signless’s ‘execution’, but in an act of pity, her father brought the feral oliveblood. And oh how she loves to add flowery detail as to how the Executor and the Disciple only grew closer as their world began to fall apart. Even when the Disciple was reunited with the Signless, who had not been dead all along, her feeligns had changed. She no longer saw him as a mate beyond quadrants but as a dear friend and teacher.

The Signless thought he had been betrayed and the Dolorosa flushing the Grand Highblood did not help either. And so your mother delves into the second arc of the epic flush-romance between her parents and how the Signless was bitter and how the Dolorosa blamed your mother for his final severance of emotions from the others. Even after the Grand Highblood was imprisoned she still despised your mother and when she got pregnant with you, things were made worse thrice over and so onetcera into bland familial historical infinity.

You wish you were on NMST3K, giving snarky commentary. _Yes. Yes. It’s all more interesting the_ tenth _time you told this story._

You only perk up when your mother mentions the last details. “Even to the day of today, I do not care for Porrim. I still blame her for the incident.”

Oh the incident; the one that deafened your mother during a family visit to Amethyst, back when the Grand Highblood could still get visitors “Why did he do that?” That’s the only unanswered question you care about in this overdone story.

“I wouldn’t know the exact reason. He’s volatile man, like heated salt. You shake too much and you cause a fire. When we went, this was back when the man would still have visitor’s and he’d been less moody. I heard rumors that they could have released him to another country had his behavior stayed so rational. But that day… he was already shaken. Stirred up… I would have died if Porrim hadn’t been there, sopping up my blood. If anyone knows what troubled him, perhaps her. Now that her mother is dead, she is the keeper of family secrets. She spills everything to her never ending delight.” She snorts, “Like father like daughter; always willing to snipe those closest to her.”

You usually avoid Aunt Porrim as your father has nothing but grief to air about her but this sounds too interesting to pass up now. She should be able to check on your grub too without incurring bills; maybe even see the blood color.

You’d pray to make sure it’s not purple.


	2. gossip

“No way!”

“Yes, way.”

“I don’t believe it!”

You’re kicking yourself for not visiting Aunt Porrim earlier. She’s a lot like you; a troll who doesn’t exactly fit in the confines of her hemotype. Too rough and tall to be a proper jadeblood and lacking the automatically nurturing demeanor of most to be easily accepted. You get examined at her trailer in her room. You lay on the bed, staring up at the posters of floral diagrams and anatomy. It’s not as bad as going to the doctor; less clinical and more warm. You lay back and let the examination go on while you chat it up.

“You should.” Porrim says, “Kurloz always cried when I hit him. He said my hands were like stone, just like my heart. I took it as a compliment; it meant I was my father’s daughter more than he was his son. I was always father’s favorite.”

“What was the Grand Highblood like with you?”

Porrim shrugs. “What he could be given that he’d never raised or even tolerated grubs. Mother had to constantly discourage him from eating us. He could be kind and loving in his own way. Kurloz never understood it but father does respect it; instincts get in the way though. Instincts and centuries old paranoia of being old, of being replaced and having your matesprit taken away from the next in line. Without his moiral things deteriorated.” She sighs, “No matter. I miss him still. He wasn’t a barbarian moron; far from it. The man flew spaceships and conquered nations and planets. He was a general of a vast army and knew great strategy and thought. He was concerned for his people and his lineage. It was badly shaken when Alternia was destroyed; it had been a planet but that planet was his _home_. I think it hurt him even more to see his conquests and personality misinterpreted, fogged up by lies and anti-troll propaganda. Don’t get me wrong though; he did very awful things but every person has bright light just like they have inky darkness in them.”

“Thetas told me how smart he was... before she passed on.”

“I knew Thetas. I liked her. She was a sweetheart and a good kisser.”

“You kissed her?”

“We went to high school with that crew. Thetas, Phaxin, and… was Vinnie there? Ah, no; Vinnie and Capone are older. And yes, I kissed her once and Phaxin too. I flushed Phaxin but Kurloz threw the worst fit about it; said I was meddling in his life and his quadrants. This was sometime after I’d been tonguing Mituna in the sports utility shed while Latula… oh.” A wicked grin on her face and you realize how similar she is to your father when she smiles,“Well, that’s _another_ story.”

“Mituna?” You can’t imagine that foul mouthed brain-scrambled yellowblood doing anything sexual. It puts you off. You don’t know why. “Is he mad you’re flushing Rufioh?”

“Yes.” She clicks her tongue, “I must have a type. I’m a social butterfly and I like to protect my brother. He thinks I’m nothing but a shameless slut but people, especially trolls, are most earnest when you are sweet, polite, and lovable to them. And trolls have no trouble heaping their problems upon the shoulders of the jadebloods. Instincts dictate such but oh; that’s also another story.”

She’s filled to the brim with stories and she doesn’t puff them up. Quick and to the point with Porrim and sharp like her fangs. “So you know about the Brotherhood?”

“It’s hard not to know and it’s a shame.” She shakes her head. “They’re no different from the other gangs, if not worse. It was supposed to be a way for purplebloods to support each other when no one else would, like how the Trussians support mutantbloods and the Shongolians jadebloods. Father turning control to Capone was the worst thing to do.”

“Capone _stinks_ of sleaze.” You pause, “…he’s not _related_ to us is he?”

“Vaguely. His younger brother goes by the moniker Vinnie Makara but I think he’s a distant cousin from the Helmsman Era; a descendant via Mother Grub Machine and artificial slurrying. I doubt that’s his real name but it’s hard to dispute. Father got around.” She chuckles, “Family tradition. Mother was no different but don’t tell Kurloz that.”

The Mother Grub Machine is only speculation though; technology lost in the Harrowing. Supposedly it was a massive storage databank of genetic material that produced new trolls via piping and complicated machines. Its existence is disputed by academics like Aranea; along with other artifacts like the Battleship Condescion, the life-extending powers of the Condesce, and the fabled Holy Matriorb.

Porrim snaps off her gloves. “You’re done by the way. You look fine down there.”

“Can you, uh, tell the blood color of the grub?”

Porrim looks at the strip lying on the table besides some burdock roots. “It should be ready now.”

Porrim has plenty of hemotype tests on hand from working on the clinic. She has to do these at least fifty times a day along with other exams. With ritual quickness, she swabed the inside of your nook, swirled it in a saline solution, rubbed it on the testing strip in five or so neat lines, and waited ten minutes. She picks up the strip to the light, and then hands it to you. “Olive, though it’s darker than yours. This’ll probably be a wild one.”

You look at the test strip, smiling. “I don’t care. As long as it’s happy.”

Though it’s a huge relief it’s an oliveblood and you can pick out a name and Gamzee can’t say shit. You want something with a lion theme, like Arslam, Simhan, or Sekmet. Porrim smiles, sitting next to you on the bed. “See? It’s not all that bad and I think you’ll make a good mother. You can’t be any worse than Dualscar.”

You laugh. “Cougars take care of their kittens better than Dualscar did for Eridan or Cronus. You saw that horrid trailer!”

Porrim smirks. “Gamzee excited to be a Dad?”

“Fuck no. He hates it and he hates me.”

You expected Gamzee to try and run off rather than deal with his most likely manic offspring but he’s been the picture of perfect behavior after having a ‘talk’ with Kurloz. You’re sure there was a fight but you couldn’t find any evidence of it. Your mother and you were both relieved when you returned to the house a half hour later.

Gamzee seemed… different. You couldn’t put your finger on it but there was a change in the way he behaved, though he was still a crass asshole but seemed more focused and maybe relaxed. It’s as if he had mounting stress that just ebbed away all of a sudden, either evaporating or replaced with something a lot worse. You’re too uneasy to ask your father exactly what he said but most likely it scared the piss out of him.

He’s also been trying to spend more time with Tavros as having a kismesistude in your space all the time is a pain in the ass. Only Sollux has the patience for that shit and that’s because there’s heaps of pity involved with Eridan. Rufioh can’t be pleased about the pairing though and you mention it to Porrim.

The jadeblood laughs. “It’s very cute actually. Gamzee’s trying to befriend Rufioh so he can stay longer with Tavros. Rufioh barely tolerates him and I’m pretty sure he’d flip his shit if Tavros gets knocked up. Only a matter of time on that front. Unless you got some fault shit, birth control fails quite often.”

“What about Horuss? I thought he loved purplebloods.”

“Horuss’s respect goes to the dominant male and that is Kurloz, not Gamzee. Even when Kurloz is old and toothless, he’ll always have more respect than Gamzee.” Porrim shrugs, “But the vascular pump wants what it wants. Only a matter of time before Gamzee weasels his way over here and the same with me, though I’ll miss my cozy home. I’m wondering if Kanaya will stay with me or try and move in with Vriska. We’ll probably have to add on another level if we have a full house.”

“Ugh. Like those _breeders_ on Two Boot Drive…”

The people on Two Boot Drive and Sparks Street were infamous for their large collections of spawn. The zoning of the trailer park didn’t allow for expansions but the DD snuck around that rule by expanding vertically. For a fee you could have one trailer stacked on top of the other and connected with metal stairs and platforms. It was horribly tacky but the only way to keep peace in larger families.

“I suspect some people may cave in and decide to live like the breeders. There’s only so much room to go around and kids grow fast.” says Porrim, “It would be nice to have enough space between the four of us where we don’t have to hear the other having sex. I don’t care but it bothers Rufioh.”

“Is it because you had to hear your parents?”

“Why should I let what animals do every day, in the open, no matter the time or location without fail bother me? As long as it’s consenting and loving or hateful, I don’t care.”

You leave the trailer, heading to your trailer. You look at the paper the entire time. An oliveblood grub. He’s definitely going to be tall and lean, with wild hair like his father and large eyes.

You hope he’s as fierce as you.


End file.
